“I feel the rain waiting to be born”

I feel the rain waiting to be born,

hear the banshee wind

Racing round eaves,

Scaring the attic haunts,

Making hambone frenzy with

Powdery limbs.

Trees now tilting whirligigs

Ancient pin, water oaks

Dancing St. Germaine’s dance–

Frenzy below amongst quilted colors

Ruffling the feathers of nature

Tossing the spectrum wide.

I smell mossy rain finally born,

Hear the clatter on a tin roof

Smell again the musty fog

Born of a sullen, moaning stream

And head for bed under the eaves,

Shared with a Banshee wind

And a hambone frenzy until dawn.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2022

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